


Complicit

by Greta13



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Self-Hatred, Self-Reflection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-14 20:05:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18059174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greta13/pseuds/Greta13
Summary: After the events of 1x07, Michael ponders on the question Max posed to him. What if it had been Alex?





	Complicit

Gazing up at the stars with a half drunk glass bottle of beer in hand, Michael wonders when it all went so wrong. Was it a single decision, a singular momentous screw up on his part at a particular point in his life? Or had it been the summation of all his poor choices that lead to this moment in time, lead to him finding himself miserable and bitter? Alone.

Shifting in his chair by the fire pit, sinking deeper into his jacket to flee the sweeping chill of the desert twilight, he traced the emerging constellations with his eyes. As a kid, he had often snuck away from his foster homes at the sight of the first star emerging through the still light sky. As dusk settled, the sun sunk further into the horizon, he pushed further into the open wilderness of Foster’s Homestead Ranch. Returning to the closest place he had to a home, a familial cemetery. So many times he had searched the inky heavens in the solitude. Seeking, waiting, hoping. Maybe someone out there was looking for him too. Maybe he wasn’t as alone as he always felt.

What a dumbass he had been. 

In his quest to find a family, he had consumed as much knowledge about the celestial sphere as he could. He had been fascinated as a child by all of the myths and legends regarding various groupings of the stars. He had even wondered if some or even all of the stories could hold some truth. After all his own origins were a myth to most. 

He scoffed at himself, taking a deep swig from his bottle. How stupid. The only truth that those tales told was the futile and tragic nature of existence on this big old rock. So many constellations told tales of tragedy and woe. The only real falsehood lay in those that ended happily. There was no such thing as ‘happily ever after.’

In Greek theater, the classification of work was based on how the reversal of luck turned. If one started with bad luck and it became good, then it was a comedy. If one had good luck which took a turn for the ultimate worse, well then it was a tragedy. But what would they make of Michael’s life? Stranded in on a foreign planet in a fiery crash that killed all but two others, left behind at the foster home, neglected, and when things finally started to look like they were taking a turn for the better, it all crashed and burned. No college, no boyfriend, no prospects of a future other than discovery as an accomplice to murder and possible torture and dissection for his alien origins. 

Too bad he hadn’t crashed here a few thousand years ago. Maybe they would have thought that he was a god. Or at least the half-human son of one. And maybe he would have been able to actually do something with his life. Make a difference. Be a champion for the weak, seek justice for wrongs. Be a hero. 

Achilles had been born of a mortal father Peleus, King of the Myrmidons, and the immortal Thetis. Achilles was half mortal and half god. He was a warrior without equal. Unstoppable. The fastest, strongest and mightiest man to have ever lived. And yet, even he had his fatal flaw. One arrow to heel that his mother had held him by as she dipped him into the river Styx, and he was down.

Too bad she hadn’t thought to double dip him, Micheal thought bitterly, it would have saved Achilles a lot of grief.

For despite never getting sick, being able to take more than a few punches without so much as a bruise or cracked rib, communicating with his mind, and being able to control any object with a mere thought. Michael couldn’t shake that his weakness, vulnerability, was a freaking mile wide. Because while the only thing that had truly ever hurt his body was Jesse Manes’ hammer, every shame, insult, and well-aimed taunt tore him up. Making him feel worthless and weak. Because despite what everyone thinks, despite his devil may care attitude, he cares. He cares so much that it hurts, and he wishes he could turn it all off. 

But what he doesn’t get is that no one else ever seemed to be so vulnerable. No one else ever seemed to hurt the way he did. No one else constantly felt like their very being was raw and overexposed. Except for Alex. Alex who had been beaten down verbally, emotionally and physically his whole life. Alex who even while in his own personal hell, battling so many demons, had opened himself up and wanted to protect and care for Michael. Alex’s small flame of resistance to everything that life threw at him, had caught Michael entirely off guard and lit a pyre in his soul.

It ate Michael up that he had just stepped aside and let Jesse Manes continue to abuse and control Alex. But not as much as the small voice that whispered that it had been Michael that had snuffed Alex out. Alex had endured seventeen years of his father’s torture, defiantly, and could have continued to do so if it weren’t for the Trojan horse that he had so willing let enter inside his carefully crafted walls. His first kiss, his virginity, his hope, his fragile heart. Only to have Michael abandon him in his hour of need. For as surely as Michael went to the rescue of Izzy and Max from the jaws of fate, he condemned Alex to his. 

But it hadn’t just been that night. His betrayal had been long and tortuous, like a knife slowly sinking and twisting into Alex’s back. He could see that now. He had rebuffed Alex’s repeated outreaches and overtures. Because he was too wound up in his own trauma.Too preoccupied with appearing normal. Too scared of being caught. Too afraid that Izzy would remember and lose it again. Too focused on what Izzy, Max and he had done, that he didn’t even notice what was happening in front of his face.

He had been so desperate to fly under the radar that he never went to a doctor and reported Jesse Manes, as he had originally planned. He went to Max after a few days. The skin had begun to heal on its own already, so it scared, but nothing was truly damaged after Max finished. And he had been so wrapped up in his own problems of the alien variety that he had left Alex to suffer.

Following that night, Alex had reached out after a few days. Notes had appeared in Michael's locker at school even though Alex wasn't there for a whole week. Alex had pleaded for Michael's forgiveness at first. Apologizing over and over. And then he asked if he could call Michael, if they could talk. Michael didn't know what to do. He felt like if he saw Alex, that Alex would see right through him. That Alex would see the monster he had become. And Max and Izzy were counting on him. He didn't respond. He never called Alex's number. And then the final note had appeared the following Monday. Alex asked him to run away with him after graduation. But Michael couldn't leave Izzy and Max. Not after what had happened. 

And then Alex was back in school for their last week, finals. Hair cropped in a short military cut. Nails polish free. No eyeliner or jewelry. The warm light gone from his eyes. It was strange and terrible. Like someone had bleached away everything about the Alex he knew. Every element of teenage rebellion erased. Leaving a husk, a quiet bruised boy behind. 

Max had asked him what if it were Alex. And that was the terrible thing. There was no need to hypothesize or wonder. It was Alex. Not that Alex had been shot in front of Michael. But Michael had witnessed him dying in a whole different way. And it hadn’t been sudden and painless. It was a long slow agonizing death, inch by inch, the life had been crushed out of Alex’s soul. And he hadn't stopped it. He’d done nothing. He hadn't used his powers to save Alex. He had been so afraid, and now when he sees Alex, a shadow of the boy he knew. It kills him. Because he never did everything that he could or should have done to stop Jesse Manes from strangling the life from Alex.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
